No One Loves Ted Cruz More Than The Imaginary People In His Own Head
Senator Ted Cruz from Texas is a hollow-souled political opportunist and sniveling coward. He has absolutely no admirable traits or redeeming qualities, but I’ve never questioned his sanity until yesterday.
Cruz and Senator Ron Johnson met with members of the big dumb trucker convoy Tuesday. Naturally, Cruz made it all about himself and his personal crusade against sensible public health measures. As public mental breaks go, Cruz’s diatribe ranks up there with an unhinged Nietzsche hugging a horse. At one point, he opened his mouth and unleashed these words on an unsuspecting public:
Every week, I fly back and forth to Houston. Almost without exception, every time I’m on an airplane, either the captain or a flight attendant will come up to me, will hug me and say, "Thank you for fighting for us."
Cruz is a singularly graceless liar, but this is truly next level. He’s reached the "Dr. Frank-N-Furter imagining an adoring audience in an empty theatre” level of madness. As Elizabeth Spiers remarked on Twitter, it’s “obviously false. No one would voluntarily hug Ted Cruz.” She’s right. There’s one scientific absolute in the universe, and that’s everybody hates Ted Cruz.
Obviously false. No one would voluntarily hug Ted Cruz.https://twitter.com/therecount/status/1501241431612170244\u00a0\u2026— Elizabeth Spiers (@Elizabeth Spiers) 1646761320
I'm reminded of what a disappointed Lisa Simpson told her brother: “Oh, Bart, why didn’t you at least forge plausible grades?” (Cruz has also publicly bashed beloved TV character Lisa Simpson because he’s that kind of asshole.) There’s nothing remotely plausible about Cruz’s story. All of 600 people lost their jobs at United Airlines because of non-compliance with vaccine mandates. That’s about one percent of its total staff. The remaining 99 percent are sensible adults who aren’t physically embracing Ted Cruz during his regular trips to Cancun.
Donald Trump is also a pathological liar, but his more absurd lies reflect a different set of personal deficiencies. In his fractured fairy tales, very smart people praise Trump’s intelligence and marvel at his ability to identify a camel. He also commands respect from the military officials and experts who make him feel inferior. You knew he was lying whenever he claimed a highly decorated general and war hero called him “sir.”
However, Trump does have some genuine charisma, a concept Cruz has probably read about in books. It’s disturbing but important to recognize, as Trump enjoys a cult-like devotion from his supporters. Ted Cruz was born stuffed inside a locker. There’s no recorded evidence of him ever making a friend. His college roommate said Cruz has “been pathetic since 1988.” George W. Bush loathed Cruz because of his weaselly nature and this is someone whose top adviser was Karl Rove. John Boehner called him “Lucifer in the flesh,” an insult to the charming character from the Netflix series.
Cruz has tried to position everyone’s contempt for him as some sort of badge of honor. It's the last gasp of the despised. But Cruz also craves adoration. He desperately wants Trump’s “populist” support. It’s why he cravenly hitched his wagon to the Sedition Express in 2020. However, he’s destined to end up campaigning for Marjorie Taylor Greene or Madison Cawthorn’s presidential campaigns — just like in 2016, when he phone banked for the man who insulted his wife, his expression stuck in resting loser face.
Ted Cruz has the wailing desperation of Aaron Burr but without Leslie Odom Jr.’s swagger. He’s Senator Frank Burns, and we should always assume that no one likes him. It just saves time.
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Stephen Robinson is a writer and social kibbitzer based in Portland, Oregon. He writes make believe for Cafe Nordo, an immersive theatre space in Seattle. Once, he wrote a novel called “Mahogany Slade,” which you should read or at least buy. He's also on the board of the Portland Playhouse theatre. His son describes him as a “play typer guy."